


Can You Feel This?

by Kami_del_Antro



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Galahad Kircheis, Guild Wars 2 - Freeform, Heart of Thorns, Living World 3, M/M, OCxOC - Freeform, Tahiel Shadowhisper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: A lot of Galahad's world was gone already. But he was starting to realize that Tahiel shouldn't be all that he had.





	Can You Feel This?

**Author's Note:**

> Day one of my very short lived attempt at completeing Fictober 2018. Galahad is by Ren, Tahiel is mine.

Encke was blonde as the sun above the clouds; Galahad remembered her with her button nose and noisy laughter. Her totem was the Snow Leopard, and she represented her Nature Spirit in an easy, natural way. There was a time for laughter and celebration, but there was also a time to be prideful and serious.

Galahad, from the Raven, had always been pensive and silent. Now, however, melancholy ate him up inside.

“He doesn’t deserve you,“ Encke would say, not raising her eyes from the little wooden figurines she loved to carve. “You know that, right?“

He knew. Tahiel was beautiful; his hair made of leaves rustled everytime he used the sword on a thin twig that barely held to the surrounding snow, a sword he used with the quick strikes of a guardian, as it rusted away on his hands. The sword was not made to be wielded by a necromancer; everytime Tahiel used it, it wilted a little more. It became brittle. His eyes were embers and they burned through his skin, shooting a poisoned dart directed a Galahad’s heart.

“Why do you keep coming back to him?“ Encke would ask, looking at him for the first time, puzzled. “Why don’t you leave?“

Galahad parted his lips, but didn’t have a thing to say. He was enraptured, watching the dance of blade and shield, as the blade became blunt and shattered, as the shield rotted away until only the metal guard remained. Tahiel kept on hitting the twig -slash, slash, shield bash, repeat-, until the hilt of the sword shattered on his hands, and the remains of the shield broke down and fell in rusted flakes to the ground. The twig was still standing; trembling, full of scars, but alive in the midsts of Tahiel’s destroyed weapons.

The young sylvari trembled, shivering in the cold wind. Then roared, teeth bared, hand raised in a sign of condemnation.

Corruption ate away the young tree’s bark, as skeletal hands teared down its weak branches. A storm of disease and death climbed and flourished like a sick spring bloom, and the twig exhaled a putrid dark green sigh before rapidly wilting. Tahiel contemplated the destruction with sick satisfaction, before a shadow fell on his face. He dropped his hands, limp at each side of his body, and let out a pained sigh, almost a sob.

Encke would’ve sighed, too.

“Can you feel this?“ she would’ve said, standing on her tippy toes, touching his chest. “Here. Can you feel it?“

Galahad could feel it. The pain that wasn’t his, the feeling that all of his losses were small compared to Tahiel’s suffering. The terrible, sweeping sensation that maybe, just maybe, if Tahiel was happy, he would find happiness, too. But he shook his head softly, sadly.

“I know how love feels, my sister,“ he muttered under his breath. “And this is not it. It doesn’t hurt like this.“

Encke couldn’t reply. Encke had died 80 years ago, in the Barrowstead.

Encke would’ve known he was lying.


End file.
